Oh, How We Grow
by onyxwaterfall
Summary: COMPLETE. Buffy explores why and how she has grown to feel such intense feelings for her sister Slayer.
1. What It Means to be Close

**Title: **Oh, How We Grow  
**Disclaimer: **This is purely for entertainment; none of the characters are mine.  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Summary: **A short fic, exploring how Buffy came to have such intense feelings for Faith.

* * *

Chapter One -What It Means to be Close

We always end up here after slaying. It's the natural order of events on our daily 'to-do' lists.

Get up  
Train  
Spar  
School (or in Faith's case sleep)  
Slay  
Bronze (for getting down and again, in Faith's case…getting dirty).

We'd hang here for a while after brutal patrol made us buzz, having slayed over a dozen of vamps and gotten a pretty decent fight out of them all, I certainly had worked up the need to break out into a sweat just a little bit more.

But this was the one and only way I liked to do it. Side by side with her, we'd get our nightly action, and whether it was dancing, drinking, slaying, talking, whatever, I always did it with her.

The club was full of inebriated bodies, some swaying to the music, some sitting and drinking, one slumped over another on the couch, another bent over the pool table. Everywhere, just people.

The dim lights meant it was hard to recognise people, but there was one person I failed to allow my eyes to let go of. Ever.

I watched her mildly intoxicated form moving to the beat of the music, her body I knew was pulsating from the heat of mine, and I wished inwardly that it was pulsating for other reasons that I had initiated.

I wouldn't let my eyes off of her for the simple reason that I just couldn't not look at her. Her body, her eyes, her beautiful self. Every inch of her attracted me to her so much that I found the pulse right in the core of me every time we met, every time we were close.

Close. It's such an intimate word. Faith and I: close. Such an intimate phrase. It wasn't so true. To put facts straight I barely knew her. But what I did know of her, I adored.

_'Hey, I'm Faith.' _

_I watched on in awe as stole the stake from my hand and went ahead to tear the sorry vamp to pieces. _

_'I'm gonna go out on a limb and say there's a new slayer in town.' _

She was straightforward. Blunt. Nearly 'in your face' kind of there. As much as that normally scratches me out, her, I could deal with. See Faith's a different kind of 'in your face.'

Where she's all about the 'brutal bitch', the 'hungry' and the 'horny' and the getting in a good round of 'uhh,' it reminds me of the excitement inside of me, dying to get out, but staying concealed because I have a job to do first.

But now I can feel her body up against mine ever so often as we dance, as our bodies move rhythmically to the heavy thump of the music, and we move in-sync, our motions matching, our bodies beautiful, and the sweat slick of me mirroring the sweat slick of her.

We walk home the same way we got there, on our trail through the cemetery, hoping to get in just one last slay for the night, then it would be time to hit the pillows.

But every time we found just one more, it would be the burning sensation inside of me that hoped she'd run ahead and get it, just so I could watch her body moving as she made the vamp a sorry pile of ash. I always see the passion in her, the burning sensation in her that wants to slay just _one _more, that wants to get her naughty on, and so much more.

This goes on too much. This whole, her not knowing how much I want her. And I never thought I would ever want a girl, like…I never realised. But it's only ever been her. But when we're together, when we slay, when we dance, when we spar…it's almost as if she can feel the buzzing sensation I get from being 'close' to her.

She touches me on my arm as I say 'night' to her and flash her a smile. I just want her to know how much I want her.

- - -

I lay in my bed that same night, same as every other night just going over the contents of the day, the moments with her just repeating continuously in my mind, the memory staying alive for me as long as I wanted it to.

And I try to imagine the night we're in the Bronze, and we're dancing, and I hear her breath in my ear, and feel it on my neck, and then I hear her say the words, 'I want you, Buffy.'

- - -

She can hear me breathing and I know she can.

She shakes out the punch she landed in my chest and the intense exhalation I give coupled with a sigh as her powerful self makes contact with me. Every time she hits me or I hit her she hears my whimper, or my serious breath.

My chest heaves as she steps back from me and assumes a blocking stance. I look into her eyes and she flashes me that grin of hers. Like a Cheshire cat. I watch her eyes and the depth disallows me to look further than what she plans to do next. After that I can't tell if she's hungry, turned on. I can't see it in her eyes.

But I can see her large brown pools looking straight into my own green ones. And I wonder constantly if I'm transparent.

Until she moves to kick me and I so eagerly block it and throw her down with moves of my own. I so easily end up a top her, legs either side of her, and hands grasping hers, telling her she's lost this round with my actions.

She chuckles slightly and I smile, and she pokes her tongue out at me. Our smiles fade as she gazes up into my eyes and again, I search for depth in hers. And as our faces become expressionless, and our breathing becomes the only sound, I know she can sense it.

That wanting is all real.

- - -

Even when we get down. We'd be at the Bronze. It'd usually start off with us sitting down, having a drink or two. I'd sit beside her, and we'd watch the bodies up on the dance floor, occasionally commenting on whatever happened to cross our minds. It was all a casual thing, until a song moved us to the floor. And the moment we started going, there was no stopping us. It wasn't a question of energy, for me anyway. I'm not about to say that Faith doesn't have energy that time of night; she's just like a vamp, comes out at night, too much energy to burn, lookin' for a kill.

But as we begin to dance and we sway our hips to the ballsy music, I start to really breathe. And she knows it. I let my lips loose, allow my breathing to go wild. And as we start to really get going, she can hear me no doubt, breathing onto her neck, just feeling what being close to her was like.

If me breathing close to her was anything like what her breathing close to me was like, then we better open us up another first page, cos that's a whole new story.

It's another warm, tingly, fuzzy buzz. As much as I feel it, I feel deprived of it when I don't have it. I flourish in the allowance of it, and each nerve of my body appreciates it when received.

I don't know if she can feel me shudder against her body when she breathes close to me. And when she touches me.

It's like a whole new realm of pleasure. I just imagine her hands roaming my entire body, and inevitably saving the best spot for last. But they say you can dream but it's never as good as the real thing.

She touches me…she _touches _me, alright. But I wonder if she knows.

It's like the buzzing is a whole other entity. It consumes me and vibrates me, moves me and oh…yes…

I love to feel it.

But when it's gone. I just can't. I can't be…me. I want her, I need her. I don't know if all this wanting is a Slayer thing. But I do know that without it, I can't grow.

* * *

**TBC**

Please review!


	2. Sharing the Pain

**Title: **Oh, How We Grow  
**Disclaimer: **This is purely for entertainment; none of the characters are mine.  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Summary: **A short fic, exploring how Buffy came to have such intense feelings for Faith.

Thanks everyone for all the reviews, please keep reading!

* * *

Chapter Two - Sharing the Pain

Never, I repeat NEVER has she given up on slaying and ran. Until the night when an entire team of them ambushed her, and she had no choice left but to run from them.

I had my feet running away from myself as I hurried at top speed to the door, listening to her yelling to let her in.

When I pulled her inside I watched at how they all tried to get in and couldn't. I slammed the door shut and turned to face her, and the anxious look upon her face telling me she had not had a good night. But it was about to get ten times worse when she fell to the floor, and I realised, as I looked closer, that Faith was _really_ not having a good night. She was wounded. And badly. A vamp had either used her own stake on her or found another tough and penetrative implement to wound her with.

Either way, panic was the first emotion to come over me, and anxiety the next. I knelt down beside her barely conscious form, dumbfounded at how weak she appeared, now that she was here, lying before me, the complete opposite of the Faith I knew.

Her normally tough exterior was melting away at the speed of lighting as she began to stutter what had happened. 'I didn't, I didn't see them c-coming, there were so many…'

My hands moved to her shirt and pulled it up, seeing immediately the wound on her lower abdomen. 'Oh my god,' I mumbled to myself. I swallowed anxiously and pressed fingers to my forehead, trying to think what to do.

I looked down at her shirt and the blood had stained a large part of it that it looked as if she'd been shot. She tried to sit up, but each attempt was a fail, worse than the last. She was visibly weak, physically too weak to stand, even sit.

Seeing her this way made me a bag of nerves, I barely knew what to do.

But as I carried her upstairs and into my bedroom, and lay her upon the bed, I saw the expression in her face. I think she trusted me.

I scrambled in the first aid box looking for things to heal this wound. And as I brought in a bowl of water and a sponge, and began cleaning away the area, I could feel it. I could feel the wound as if it were my own. The pain, the excruciating pain that she was feeling, was right there with me.

And as she winced, when I cleaned the wound, I apologised, and fought back tears, questioning why this had happened to her and not to me.

I pressed the gauze to her stomach, and the tape that would hold it there. Her expressions had calmed and she watched me gently as I tried my best to fix her.

- - -

I handed her a glass of water and climbed upon the bed, intending to watch her. I needed to know she was okay before I could do anything about these vampires outside.

There was an army of them. Where they came from, god alone knows. Just trying to get my head around the fact that Faith was lying here, upon my bed, in the weakest form I'd ever seen her in.

She drank the water and handed it slowly back to me. I quickly placed it on the night stand and turned back to her, lifting a hand to stroke back the hair in her face. I didn't notice her looking into my eyes as I concentrated on the shiny curls upon her head. I could still feel the pain.

I finally caught her eyes looking into mine, and I couldn't look away once I saw. 'B…' she uttered quietly. I moved my feet from underneath me and sat beside them, leaning with one hand on the comforter, the other sliding into hers.

'Uh huh?' I said, my voice breathy, light. I didn't wanna trouble her, and so I tried to hide what I was feeling. Had she heard it all through the way I spoke to her, it'd have troubled her.

'I've never been scared of them,' she started, her voice weak, without the strength that was always behind her. 'Not until today.'

I swallowed hard as she told me this.

'I was just fighting, as I normally would do, and then it was like…ten others were there. And one caught me off-guard. And it was like…at first I didn't even feel anything. Then I saw there were more of them coming…so I had to run.'

I could feel the tears threatening to tumble down my cheeks, her story of how she ended up here actually tearing me apart.

'Faith,' I mumbled, bringing a hand back up to her head, and just stroking it a moment. 'You scared me,' I started, my tone low, quiet. But I knew it would waver. I couldn't keep the tears back much longer. 'I thought I was gonna lose you for a moment there,' I continued, and the tears indeed did begin to hurry down my cheeks, but all at once she was shushing me, and reaching up to wipe them away.

'Ey, ey…B…' she whispered. 'Look at me…'

When I thought I saw it I could still myself. That need. That longing desire to have her here, to be with her.

'You will never lose me, B. Never.'

And then silence. All of a sudden it seemed like I was opened to this light in her eyes, telling me that she was gonna be here, for me, that she wasn't gonna leave me. And that she _wanted _to be here for me.

'Really?'

The moments from then on were lost because all I remember was her uttering just two words, and me asking to hold her.

'I promise.'

'Can I…hold you?'

- - -

The morning came all too quickly and as I blinked my eyes open the sun informed me fast that it was time to get up. I looked down at the slumbering Goddess laying on my shoulder, her form so beautiful, so sound.

I moved my head to lay it upon hers, pressing my nose to her hair, and inhaling the scent, a combination of vanilla, and roses and…just everything Faith. I noticed our fingers were entangled and I felt my heart trip into double time as I realised that I'd spent the entire night in the same bed as her.

I looked across at the clock, and noticed how it said 8:36. It was still pretty early. I inhaled against her head, once again absorbing those beautiful scents she had. My eyelids fell at the sheer content of lying beside her, feeling my body beside the warm glow of hers, and feeling her breath against me. With every inhalation I would tingle, knowing she was alright, knowing she was here, she was really here. With me.

I moved my legs to find further comfort and she began to move around also, and I inwardly cursed at coaxing her. It seemed alright though, as she seemed to settle down, and tilt her head up towards mine. There was a short silence as the sound of sheet contact faded and she opened her eyes to mine. 'Morning,' she said gently, and I smiled at her, noticing she was now awake.

'Hey, you.' I sighed and continued. 'How are you feeling?'

She seemed to think about it for a moment, before replying. 'A lot better.' Her voice was croaky from sleep, but still it sounded gorgeous as ever. 'Buffy,' she began once again, and I found myself floating. Being here now, with her, and she wanted to be here. This was perfect.

'Hmm?' I asked quietly.

'Thanks for staying with me. I…don't really know what I would've done without you here,' she told me, her voice like a lullaby to me. It was so soothing, it went right through me, and eased me. She was okay. So I was okay.

'You know I'll always be here for you, Faithy.'

She furrowed a brow and my stomach tightened. I don't usually call her that.

'You nicknaming me now?' she said quickly and I sat up a little.

'Oh, and B isn't a nickname?'

'It's an initial, it's different.'

'What's wrong with Faithy?'

She paused and thought for a moment, and I watched her thinking of her response. 'It's…different…it's kinda kinky…I think…I think I _like _it.' She smiled and I chuckled a little.

'My Faithy,' I mumbled, forgetting that my mouth was pretty much right next to her ear.

She rolled over onto her side and looked up at me, a mischievous yet attractive smile coming to her lips. 'What did you say?' she said cheekily, poking me in the stomach and watching me for the slightest waver.

If I didn't look so 'deer caught in the headlights' I probably could've got away with dismissing it. It wouldn't have worked cos for my next response I had nothin'.

'I'm yours?' she whispered gently, beginning to circle her finger on my stomach. I looked at her, trying not to break my expression, and as she looked down at her hand, then up at me again, I sat up a little and decided to be serious.

'I…want you to be.'

Silence. Crap. This was the moment where she'd either run out on me or tell me that this surprised her…or…if I was lucky enough, might even return the gesture.

I guess I was too caught-off-guard to realise that we were close enough for any kind of action, but as she closed in on the space between us and pressed her lips to mine, my heart tripped, once again.

It was amazing. Just a few moments, her lips to mine, so mellow. I could feel all of these emotions beginning to rush to the surface of me. As the kiss began to heat up we began to sit up together, she pressed her body to mine, and I felt her wince, imagining her stomach still hurt from last night. She never moved her lips from mine, but as I began to explore her mouth, I felt her hands begin to roam my body, running her hands up my sides, down my stomach, holding me to her. I sucked upon her lower lip, just tasting this gracious enormity that was becoming _my Faithy_. She moaned into the heat of my mouth as I moved a hand to the middle of her lower back and ran over it with my fingers, and I felt her shiver…I knew she was ticklish…

I raised my hands to her face, running them along every inch of skin on the way there- her sides, over the soft contours of her breasts, her shoulders her neck, her jawbone, and her face. She moaned blissfully, and I felt shivers running through me, just to know that we were here, now, she was kissing ME; god I was so scared of this moment. This would determine where we go from here, and it was nearly…it was coming, it was…now.

She pulled away from me and I opened my eyes to the smiling face that was Faith's gorgeous self.

'Oh my god,' I whispered on one long exhaled breath, and collapsed back on the bed, and lay there, just tingling, experiencing, realising that one kiss was enough to inebriate my entire being, and I was ringing, buzzing…making with the warm fuzzies.

I heard her chuckle and lean over, and lean her chin in her hands, and she rested her elbows upon the bed, and watched me. I looked at her, just jovial, basking in the moments that were these.

'Wow…' I said, breathing out, my own voice bed-ridden still. 'That was…aahhh.' I turned over and buried my face in the pillow, nearly biting into it for the excitement came over me like a wave of ecstasy.

I felt her move a hand and slide it onto the skin above my ass, then slide it up, up my back, so carefully, so sensually.

I hummed low in my throat and turned over, to look at her. 'Am I dreaming?'

She shook her head and smiled at me. Her hand was now resting upon my stomach, underneath my shirt, imperturbable, cool.

'Did we just kiss?'

She hummed a little. 'Mmm, what you mean like this…' And oh god, there it was again, her beautiful soft lips upon mine, gentle, inviting, buzzing, powerful, pensive, innocuous. A thousand things and many more. I leant up into the kiss, but as dominating as I had known for her to be, she pushed me down, and soon was climbing a top me.

She relaxed into my body, but as she pressed herself to me, she winced once again; this time pulling away, because of the pain in her stomach. I straddled her waist, and she sat up, on my stomach.

I looked up at her face to see her trying to ride out the pain, and her furrowed eyebrows as the waves of pain began to subside.

I moved my hands to the rim of her shirt and looked up into her eyes again. 'Let me see?' I asked softly. She nodded, and with her permission I lifted her shirt, up, above her head, and set it down on the comforter beside us. I peeled the dressing back slowly, and glanced at her expression; again, wincing with the pain.

It had healed a lot already, the whole slayer-power taking effect the moment of the injury took place. Even so. She guessed that I was gonna clean it up for her again and put on a new dressing, and as I told her I was gonna go to the bathroom to get some stuff, she rose from the bed, and told me she'd come with.

So she sat down, upon the toilet seat as I cleared up the extra blood that had come from the wound, and as I wiped it down, she hissed at the pain. 'I'm sorry, Faithy,' I told her and she shook her head, and closed her eyes.

'It's okay.'

When the dressing was done, I took her waist in my hands, and kissed her stomach just beside the dressing, the chiselled contours beautiful, rock solid, the skin a hazy caramel and her body warm. I pressed my lips to it, softly, as I stayed, knelt down before her, having dressed her wound from here.

I moved back and she met me at the floor, the cool ceramic tiles most probably a relief from the warm summer heat. I pulled her close and eventually into an embrace.

'Faith…' I started, talking into her ear, my own voice purged of power that I tried to enforce myself into, so people would gather the impression that I was 'tough stuff.'

'Yeah…'

'I can…feel it.'

'My stab wound?'

'I know it sounds strange…but I can feel it, I can feel the pain, the excruciating pain, and I'm wondering how you're copin' cos it's killin' me. How do you cope?'

There was a silence and she slid an arm around me, and up around my shoulder, and leant her chin upon that shoulder.

'I have you.'

* * *

**TBC**

Please review!


	3. Understand, Deal, Then Move On

**Title: **Oh, How We Grow  
**Disclaimer: **This is purely for entertainment; none of the characters are mine.  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Summary: **A short fic, exploring how Buffy came to have such intense feelings for Faith.

* * *

Chapter 3 - Understand, Deal, Then Move On

I pulled the thin material around her hand, wrapping it so that she wouldn't damage her hands. I tugged on it, pushing her hand in the opposite direction, occasionally looking up at her to see if she'd tell me if it was too tight, or too loose. I continued, wrapping the long, thin piece of white material around her hand, and she pressed her other hand into a fist as she leant on the old chair.

'Mmm, a little too tight,' she mumbled to me as I tugged another time on the material, and I glanced up at her, and loosened it slightly.

'Better?'

She nodded immediately and my gaze fell to her hand once more. Soon we were both up as we had been before, standing before the punch bag.

'Ready?'

No one would have thought she had had an injury three days prior to this. Yet here she was, giving blows to this punch bag, strong as she could, and I stood behind it, keeping it in place.

She wouldn't let me tell her to not train. She said that missing two days of training was bad enough. She couldn't let her injury bench her. But she knew how I felt about her training. She was hurt pretty bad. She wouldn't admit to the pain getting her down, but all the while I could feel it and I knew that she was kidding herself.

But I watched her. This tough rendition of me. A Slayer. A Fighter. Boy, she did it well. I could see it in her eyes, the determination, the strength. Even as she lay there, before me, on my comforter, and told me she had to train. That being under a duvet for three days in a row was not something she wanted to get used to. Strange. The girl could sleep through an apocalypse.

But she was punching this bag, giving it her all, and in her eyes I could see it, and in my stomach I could feel it.

The pain she was experiencing. I don't know how and why she thought she could keep this up, but still she concentrated. Pushing herself to the limit, each blow to the bag an example of why she shouldn't be training.

'Faith, you're still weak,' I uttered as she punched the bag, and I stood, never moving, her force into the bag not enough to move neither the bag, nor me.

'I'm not,' she muttered beneath her breath, firm on her inward promise to keep training.

She released a little moan as she punched the bag with harder force, trying to prove me wrong.

I watched her with solemn eyes, knowing that I was right. I hated seeing her this way. She was in pain and she just wouldn't rest.

I blinked worriedly, holding the bag for her whilst she punched, wondering when she would give in to the pain.

I guess I must have wavered from watching her, because next thing I knew I was snapping out of a daze and she was doubled over on the cold concrete floor, one hand supporting her weight, pressing into the ground, the other clutching at her stomach.

I was at her side like lightning, taking her in my hands, listening to her letting tiny whimpers pass her lips.

'Faith,' I uttered, anxiety apparent in my tone. She lowered her head and her eyes clamped shut, and I thought she was trying to wait out the pain. 'It hurts too much…' I decided for her, and she shook her head.

'No, it's alright…' She clenched her teeth immediately after this, bending over further in pain, and I came to the conclusion that the pain would be coming in waves.

'I don't think you should be doing this.'

'I told you B, I can't just sit around waiting for it to go away, I still need to be workin'.'

'No, Faith, right now you need to be "working" on getting better.'

She held her hand over her stomach still as she moved back a little and into a sitting position. She looked far from comfortable; distressed, she looked as if she was writhing beneath the surface, irritated endlessly with herself for becoming this weak, and letting this injury slow her down.

'I have to train.'

'Why?' I questioned, and she let her eyes open to me, and the look in them told me she was not happy I'd asked her this. 'Oh, c'mon Faith, look at you. You can barely stand. Why are you doing this to yourself?'

And all at once I caught a glimpse of that need to be in control in her eyes. I knew it myself, it was in _my _heart. The need to be at the top of your game all the time. The need to be the one in control, even if you were beat down. To be strong everyday, to be a fighter.

'Even soldiers need rest,' I told her gently as I sat upon the ground, across from her tired form. 'C'mon…' I told her. 'I'll run you a bath.'

* * *

I listened to the click of my heels on the hardwood floor as I entered the house, then the sound of the door as it shut. Too much of a silence had woven itself between us; Faith's idea of training hadn't exactly gone to plan. And anger seems to be the primary emotion she releases whenever things don't go her way. 

I put on the latch for the front door, and when I turned, I saw her, upon the first step, holding onto the banister, just looking at me with a sort of…calmness in her eyes. I hope she wasn't thinking about hitting me.

I took a step towards her, butterflies intensifying in my stomach the closer I got to her. I gazed into her eyes, the light reflecting from them causing them to glimmer. And as I slipped a hand around her waist and pulled her in towards me, she seemed to exhale upon a breath it seemed she'd been holding. Along with it, the tears came. Her chest seemed to heave as she let it all out, and all I could do was let her be. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and buried her head in my chest, the tears warm as they hit my skin.

After what seemed for like ever, she began to speak. 'This is so stupid.'

I moved back a little, creating space between us. 'Hey…no it's not, you're hurt, you…'

'No, B, you don't understand,' she uttered, her voice a bare attempt above a whisper. 'I hate this. I hate…how…I can't move, I can't eat, I can't _fight, _and it just hurts, everywhere,' she released, a whimper emerging from her lips to end her sentence.

I reached a hand up to her brown curls and ran my fingers through them, gently, and watched as they captured the light, and gleamed. Then her eyes, how they glowed, because the tears welling in her eyes caused nothing more than a gleam. 'Hey…' I started, lowering my voice to a whisper. 'It's gonna be alright.'

She hesitated in speaking and I saw the frustration as she creased her forehead and tore her gaze from mine. 'I…just…I need to…is this gonna get _better_?'

I released a gentle laugh and she looked towards me again. 'Of course it is. You're gonna be fine.'

She released her hold upon me and I slipped my hand further round her waist, and step by step, we began to climb the stairs, me by her side, her by mine.

And as I turned the door handle of the bathroom, closed it behind us, switched on the taps, listened to the sound of the water, I realised the atmosphere becoming further intense as words failed to exchange between us. I glanced over at her, with her back to me, looking at her own reflection in the mirror. I watched her as she grabbed a handful of her white ribbed shirt, and pulled up northwards. Skin began to reveal itself, then the large white gauze protecting the wound beneath it. Her eyes downcast, her shoulders dropped, her self silent, I knew that she was beginning to understand how slow the process of healing was.

I just watched her for a moment, the space between us enough for her to forget I was in the room with her. But as I removed my jacket and dropped it on the floor beside me, sighed, and then approached her, she turned to face me. 'Here, I'll…take it off,' I offered, my voice gentle as before. I glanced into her eyes to check it was okay before proceeding to remove the gauze.

I could feel her eyes on her stomach. Perhaps her nerves building as she waited for the gauze to reveal the slow-healing wound. She inhaled sharply and I guessed it was because I had peeled back the gauze. 'Ow,' she mumbled to herself.

Again I glanced up into her eyes, to find her looking at her stomach. 'Is it the wound or the tape on your belly?'

She chuckled a little. 'Bit of both.'

I screwed up the bandaging and threw it into the bin, and when I turned back to her, she was beginning to remove her top. I swallowed and stood, not quite sure what to do now. But as I watched her removing her top, then her trousers, I wondered. Should I leave? Should I stay?

She eventually looked at me and paused in removing her underwear. When I realised she had refrained from undressing I snapped out of my momentary daze.

'Oh…er…' I stepped back a little. 'I guess you want a bit of privacy.'

Her eyes were wide (as I'm guessing mine were also) and she neither nodded nor shook her head. So irresolute was the best option I took and I decided to leave anyway.

'I'll er…just…' I stepped back, opened the door and closed it after me. I could feel my hand rising to touch my forehead and I didn't move as I thought about what I'd seen.

Inside I began to shake with fear, as the thought I wish never had crept into my head. _What if she hadn't made it… _

Mere minutes had passed since I closed the bathroom door and left her to her business. I'd decided to grab a cup of tea and so here I was, sitting upon a stool in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to finish boiling. Thoughts kept running through my mind, me worrying that she was alright, if maybe I should check, if she was feeling alright in the non-queasy sense, and if she was in any discomfort.

Frustration. I didn't doubt that she was fed up with this. Being injured and a slayer don't exactly match, I know I've had my fair share of difficult bumps and bruises but never really…this…It still perplexed me; I couldn't figure out how she'd made it all the way to my house, before she collapsed.

I dropped a teabag into the mug and scoffed. 'They do say that love makes thee stronger…' I paused and furrowed my eyebrows. 'I'm an idiot.'

Seriously, though. The girl must've honestly been trying her utmost to not die whilst struggling to my house. And why me? She could've gone to Willow's, Xander's, even Angel's if she really wanted…but she came to me.

I knocked on the door and called her name, a twinge of nervousness getting me as I quickly thought that something might be wrong.

'Yeah…' she called from inside the bathroom. I went to ask another question but she pulled the door to and tightened her towel, and I jumped a little.

'Hey,' I smiled.

She returned the gesture and stepped forward, and leant her head upon the doorframe, followed by the length of her body, and as she gazed into my eyes, I wondered what she might say to me. 'Do you remember…' she started, her voice a little dreamy, tired. 'I packed a bag of clothes, and left it here…the "just in case" bag?'

My face grew a smile and I cocked my head to the side, letting her know that it was in my room.

Once there, she moved in slowly, and came to sit upon the comforter, as I crossed the room to my wardrobe, hoping it hadn't been moved from there. Indeed it was, and I retrieved some things for her, hoping she would be okay with what was in there.

She silently wriggled into her underwear, and once done, scoffed, and held out to me a pair of black leathers. 'And you expect me to sleep in this stuff?'

I looked at her face, then down at the garment, then up to her face again. 'Faith, I don't know what you sleep in…honestly? I'd have thought that you vote the "naked" option.'

She chuckled beneath her breath and threw the trousers back at me. 'Well yeah…normally…but I'm here-' She stopped speaking quickly and it alerted me to her. The smile fell from my face and was immediately replaced with worry. 'Unless if…you want me to go back to my…' She trailed off as I interrupted.

'No, no, don't be stupid.' I headed for the drawers and began searching for something for her. My assumptions proved to be right as I failed to find anything remotely close to a sleeping garment. 'But…you don't have anything to sleep in.'

I heard a soft chuckle and she rolled back onto the bed. I looked over my shoulder at her relaxed form, and smiled.

'Ah, so I was right.'

A grin appeared on her face as I closed the wardrobe door and headed for the bed. Once upon it, I rested my hands upon it and watched her form lying carelessly across the comforter.

'Want something of mine?' I asked quietly, and my eyes followed as her hand moved slowly towards me, up, and took hold of my shirt.

And there it was. The cheeky sense of humour, the cuteness of Faith that lay just beneath the surface of her stern exterior.

I pushed her hand down and moved away from the bed. 'I'll get you a shirt.'

And as I did so, she let out a long sigh; she was tired. I could feel her eyes on me as I went to pull back my dresser draw, and as I searched for something…nonchalant, something she wouldn't make noise about, I could feel her pain, still, and how she seemed now, comfortable with it.

The story with Faith was always about the brick walls, the defensiveness, the tough chick on the outside.

On the _outside. _But once you scratch the surface it's all about the tears, and the weaknesses and the _warm fuzzies. _I don't know how I knew this about her. Maybe something to do with how I wanted to spend all my time just watching her, and being with her, next to her. I wanted to be a part of her.

I ambled back over to the bed, unfolding the garments I'd found for her. A black pair of shorts, a black tee. I hoped they'd fit as I gave them to her, and followed the bed round to the other side. I turned around before she could ask me to not look, as I'm sure that was coming, and took hold of my brush. 'I won't look,' I told her gently as I started running it through my hair.

She chuckled and I felt her putting on the clothes as I ran my brush through my hair. Inside me was that feeling of wanting to be helping her, just to make sure she wouldn't hurt herself, and to let her know that I was there for her, in every way. And before I knew it I was crossing the room to the bed, climbing upon it, helping her, for that familiar cry of pain was coming from her beautiful mouth.

She was struggling with the top, and I took it from her, my eyes momentarily scanning over her body. 'Here,' I started, murmuring quietly. 'Lift your arms up,' I said, demonstrating with my own.

And just like that, I knew she trusted me. Her eyes were on mine, her arms reaching to the ceiling, a soft smile coming to her lips. And as I slid the top down and onto her, I kept my eyes upon her. I looked to her hands and guided them through the holes of the tee, then pulled the top slowly down, and once over her head, watched as it hugged her body. I could feel her own eyes all the while upon me, and I liked it. No. I loved it.

I moved my focus to her forehead, where I moved a few strands of hair, then closed in on the space between us, and planted a kiss upon her head. My lips lingered there a moment, and I inhaled, taking in all the scents of her, each one of them wonderful in it's own entirety. I hadn't intended to say anything, though a few incoherent words rolled from my mouth and I slipped my arms around her. 'I hated seeing you that way.'

Her own arms came to rest at my lower back, warm palms resting upon my skin, and she pulled me down to her eye level and shook her head. 'I hate being this way.'

I watched her eyes, and the sadness in them, the pain hurtful for me. And all at once I was holding her to me, breathing against her, just being with her.

'You wanna sleep?' I suggested after sometime. I released my hold on her and slipped under the duvet, and allowed her to find her comfort before pulling the duvet up around us. I laid my head upon the pillow beside hers, and smiled, seeing her eyes still open, looking at me.

No words were needed. We found our bearing through gestures and expressions, and as I raised a hand and cupped her cheek in my hands, a soft murmur escaped her lips. I couldn't quite catch her words, but as she moved her cheek further into my hand, and covered it with her own, I knew she was contented.

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**TBC**


	4. My Mistake

**Title: **Oh, How We Grow  
**Disclaimer: **This is purely for entertainment; none of the characters are mine.  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Summary: **A short fic, exploring how Buffy came to have such intense feelings for Faith.

This is the final part of this fic, just wanted to quickly say thanks for all of your responses!

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Chapter 4 – My Mistake 

It was past mid-morning when I opened my eyes. Close to midday, the sun was beaming through the window, painting the entire room a sweet corn yellow. I could feel its warmth beating against my left arm and back; it was gorgeous. But when I reached out beside me to find an empty space, I panicked. Sat up fast, my eyes opening wider, my heart beat speeding up.

Where had Faith gone?

The panic subsided when the door came to, and she stepped in. I lay back on the comforter, sighing loudly, and she slid under the duvet beside me, offering a coy smile.

Something was different about her. She looked well.

I leant in towards her, that stirring look in her eye provoking me to ask her what was on her mind. I squinted knowingly, and mirrored the smile that grew upon her lips. 'What's up?' I questioned, her coy expression arousing both exhilaration and disquiet within me.

She shrugged and flopped back on the bed, before liberating a fatigued sigh. She pulled the duvet back, and languidly placed a hand above mine, then tugged on it gently, looking into my eyes the whole time. Nervousness sprung to mind. And concern. I didn't understand what she was going to do, although let her hand guide mine, over the soft contours of her stomach, then down a fraction or two of and inch. And I knew. My fingers lingered at it, and without my knowing, a relieved, yet defeated sigh escaped my lips.

I was dumbfounded. 'But it's been three days,' I pondered, my eyes searching; as if they could find me the answer.

She shook her head. 'Doesn't matter,' she began, that recognisable, tough yet subversively gentle tone emitting her lips. She drew in a long breath and looked away from me, her eyes resting upon the ceiling now. 'Must be something to do with being a Slayer…maybe,' she thought, her gaze coming to rest upon mine once again as her sentence faded.

I raised my eyebrows a moment. 'Maybe.' And that was it. We didn't talk about it anymore, we didn't think about it. Even so, as I offered to make some breakfast, and watched her as she helped me, buttering the bread, making the coffee, sprinkling the waffles with syrup, I just allowed my eyes to follow her. Rest passively and easily upon her, without wonder if she was going to double over in pain, or cry from the physical ache that had paralysed her.

Each move she made was incredulously powerful and incredible; she either matched my move or went above it, her reflexes shockingly on point, her ideas always innovative and exciting. Four times I'd counted, she'd had me on the floor, a foot pressed to my chest and her smile, aloof. Seconds later her hand would be open to mine, waiting for me to take it and get back on my feet. But each time I looked into her eyes, at her hand, at her gorgeous unblemished form, I wondered, tried not to; but wondered how it had only taken her three days to get over this life-threatening injury. She hadn't even seen a doctor.

Each time I landed a kick in her chest and sent her flying, my mind dared to question just one more time, but I dismissed it too soon and we were sparring like there was no tomorrow. Hours, for hours we sparred, as if she'd been dying to get the 'spar' out of her, like it was a niggling feeling in the centre of her, waiting to pop for so long that if she didn't get her 'spar' on she would burst.

What am I saying? Often I felt the same way, only it was if I didn't get my daily dose of her. Whatever it may have been, chatting, sharing a donut, watching a movie. Just _being _with her was what I needed, each day. And although I spent the last few days taking care of her, it was perhaps the most profound thing for me.

She was vulnerable, delicate, and I had to be a reflection of that, only the opposite. I had to be impervious, fervent, and being there for her, taking care of her, being her strength was like, seeing magic for the first time. It's brilliance, it's heightened specialty. You can't quite put your finger on how it exists, it blows your mind.

Just as Faith does.

Soon we were peeling clothes from one another, turning taps to 'hot,' allowing the snake-like trails of water to run off each other, running hands with soap-foamed hands over one another, compassionately, non-judgementally. And as her arms ran over every part of me, cleansing me, as I did with her, I dwelled upon it. It was too sensual for me to think of it another other way. Titillating? No. I saw it differently. Like, she completed me. And it was sensual. It wasn't raunchy; it was beautiful, incredible. Surpassed anything I'd ever experienced. Even as we stepped out of the shower, and she wrapped a towel around me. It was salacious. It was sensual. I could feel her breath upon my neck as she stood behind me, brushed my hair back off my shoulders.

She took care of me as much as I did her. we knew each other like the back of our own hands, yet only a few days before had I admitted my feelings for her. I was only lucky for her to feel the same way. Even so, it was fantastic. Being able to share all you wanted to with the one person you wanted to share it with.

We decided against going into school. Thursday afternoon; it was pointless now. We'd been in each other's sole company for the past three days; I hadn't even spoken to the others. Perhaps they'd wondered what had happened to us.

She sat at the top of my bed, legs stretched, crossed over one another, hands resting on her stomach, and I, at the foot of the bed, tidying my hair. 'So, what are we gonna do?' she asked simply.

As much as I would've liked to have offered a simple answer, nothing is simple. And this is far from even the vicinity of simple. I glanced over my shoulder at her, then my body followed, and soon I was moving along the comforter towards her, bringing a leg over hers, and sitting just on her thighs, and letting my hands trail over her caramel arms. I inhaled quietly, and just waited. I don't know what for. The answer, maybe.

'Do we tell everyone?' she continued, seeing that I was in no obvious rush to answer her.

My eyes moved from hers, again, looking at nothing in particular, though searching for something. I came to rest my gaze upon hers once again. 'I dunno…what do you think?'

She sucked in a breath and moved her hands to straddle my hips. 'In truth?' she asked, and I nodded briefly. She pulled me to her, and I rested my hands upon her shoulders, and let our lips meet for a brief moment. When I pulled away, she smiled sweetly. 'I kinda like it being just us.'

So we went to the Bronze. Just us. I felt warm knowing she was beside me and I was with her. Just us. Her hand slipped into mine as we walked into the club and I felt as though I didn't have to claim her, she was with me, and we were gonna stay together for the whole night.

Immediately the 'down and dirty' vibe was having an effect on her, when the pumping of the music rumbled through us, and the swaying bodies filled the dance floor. Three days she hadn't been here and she was ready to get her party on. I didn't have a chance to ask her if she wanted a drink before she'd pulled me onto the dance floor and started dancing up against me. Not that I minded, just…eager much.

Don't get me wrong, I loved this. But she was really into the party scene, a hell of a lot more than me, I think. Where I might enjoy a quiet movie and popcorn, curling up on the couch with a duvet and a partner, smoochies and cuddles galore, she'd tune into her 'post-slayage hornies' and get voracious with the closest human being, no matter how much touching and grinding and breathing there was.

We were definitely two different human beings, different and opposite in our own ways, but where I would miss out on the post-slayage horny satisfiers, she would miss out on the cuddling and the smooching. So I liked to think of it as that I could fill her blank spaces. And she could fill mine.

Heated sprung to mind as she turned her back to my front and started dancing into my lap, taking my hands and wrapping them around her waist. Yeah. She had the power to get those little itches right in the centre of me worked up just by dancing, moving rhythmically with me to the music. It was hypnotising, intense. We'd be moving, like now for example, together, and whatever she'd do, I'd follow, and we'd be perfect, but it would be so far from reality; like the music would be going, but it would only be me, and her, and everyone else didn't exist; even if we were shoulder-to-shoulder. The only shoulders I could sense were hers. And when she looked into my eyes, like now, as she's doing, facing me, and the music slows, it was tantalising. Anything she wanted to say was communicated through those gorgeous deep eyes of hers, and she'd wrap her arms around me, and we'd just move. I'd rest my head upon her shoulder, and she would lean her head against mine.

But now, as the music _did_ slow, she pulled away from me and moved towards the bar. I followed closely behind, guessing she was tired and wanted a drink.

'Martini and lemonade,' she told the bartender, though stopped him as he began to get it. 'Make that two.' I slid up onto a barstool as she leant against the bar, her eyes focussed on something behind the bar. I touched her arm gently, alerting her to me.

'Something up?'

She shook her head and made a face. 'Not really, just…' Her face scrunched a little and I frowned. Was it me? She lowered her voice and leant in close to me. 'Check out your nine o'clock.'

So I did. Oh…

I looked back to her and she raised her eyebrows. I was going after. She tried to stop me but I shook off the hold she had on me. And it was instinctive. Nothing more. Not a grudge. Not that I didn't like her face. Just…me.

I broke off a wooden leg and pulled her out, not looking at her, just pulling her, until we were outside and she was trying to get out of my grasp. No chance, sweetie.

I slammed her against the brick wall, and she fell to the ground, and as surreal as every time was, I shoved the stake right where it needed to be.

But I was wrong.

I hadn't heard her shout to me, a simple two letter word. Two seconds too late.

And then there were people. Loads of people. And her. She was bleeding. And the blood was on my hands.

'Buffy, what have you done?' Her words travelled straight through me, and I fainted before I could realise myself what I had done.

I didn't know whether or not they knew who I was, what I did…still do. And I don't know whether or not she still wants to know me. Even as I came to and she explained everything to me. Even as she sat before me, held out the glass of water to me, listened to my harsh breathing, held me when I started to cry. Was she disappointed? Was she as scared as I was? What would happen to me? To us?

I had to ask myself all of these questions. Because everything was gonna fall apart after that night. Because of me.

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Help me out, should I write a sequel? I thought briefly about it and got some ideas together but I'm debating whether or not it's worth it. What do you all think? 


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